


You Are My Sunshine

by orphan_account



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Parenthood, Sunshine AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-09-30 23:03:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10174400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Prompto finds a bundle of light in the darkness of the world, quickly taking it upon himself to adopt the small child and care for him. Ten long years are filled with a troubling and an enlightening parenthood; an experience no one around Prompto's son will ever forget.Things become so much more complicated after Noctis returns.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Practically Co-written by a good friend of mine. In fact, AU wasn't even created by me but instead by them so all credit goes to them for letting me write this!!

It had been only a year; everything was different. _Everything._ It still hit him in the morning like whiplash, that it wasn't any sort of dream he could ever wake up from—the dreams he had been waking up from were far worse. There was no routine at this point as everyone seemingly shuffled around the darkened land with only the faintest hint of purpose; Either save people, save yourself, adapt to the ever present black sky or do nothing at all and wither away. Prompto was stuck between 'Save people' and 'Save yourself' at the moment, he knew he couldn't sit back and watch people continuously get slaughtered by the increasing amount of daemons that kept appearing across the land. Sometimes he would simply patrol Hammerhead, do hunts for Cindy or just keep watch for the truck stop for a few hours when no one else had the energy to do so. He didn't even know what you would call "night time" anymore as it was consistently night the entire time _he_ had been away. There was just some point on the clock that you began to feel tired so you slept. Everyone had this odd jet-lagged schedule and no one was on time if you went by whenever it said AM or PM, though it’s not incredibly relevant anymore. A prime example was this current moment, sitting in the back of a pick-up truck that hobbled around as it crossed over old roads that were no longer maintained.

 

He doesn't know where they are—some town with a name that didn't matter anymore, way farther out than he's ever been—but they were here to look for more refugees to take to Lestallum. Immediately, people began to flock to the large industrial city after the sun disappeared from the sky thanks to its bright lights and consistent energy source. It was good and had room so it wouldn't be over crowded any time soon. At least, you have to hope it wouldn’t be because it was all a lot of people had left nowadays. Hope. Still early enough to cling onto, still fresh enough to be vibrant and give out smiles. Prompto had hope, always did always will, things would get better and they would get better soon. When Gladio tapped the side of the truck bed Prompto jumped and nearly let out a squeak in surprise, sighing and trying his best not to glare at anyone as he climbed off and stepped onto the gravel, kicking it around a bit with his foot as he stared at the remnants of the town.  It was okay looking, most of the people were gathered up ready to clamber into the vans and trucks that were brought to carry them, the team dedicated to doing one final sweep of everything for supplies—Prompto being one of them—began their trek through the abandoned buildings.

 

It almost reminded him of his Urban Exploration day’s way back in Insomnia to grab some more aesthetic photos as a teenager. Except now, he had the unfortunate horror and regret of possibly finding a body somewhere. He tried not to linger on it too long. His backpack was almost filled to the brim with old cans of food, general day-to-day supplies for living; the works. Anything they could salvage and bring back since there weren’t any factories anymore was a big plus for everybody. He was trudging through a particularly still comfy home, making his way through the living room and kitchen, doing his best to not look at any of the things that were still there from the family that used to live there. It would bring tears to his eyes if he thought about any of it. There was something odd, though, the way everything looked so normal and gave him this feeling as if he had just broken into a home in the middle of the night while people were still here. The owners of the home couldn’t be far, in fact they were probably outside squished in the back of a van, but why were so many things left behind? He couldn’t rid the thought that it was as if they just up and left with no explanation, there was no struggle or any signs of daemon attack. Truly it was a home abandoned. He slowly walked up the stairs, letting his fingertips graze over the photo’s hung up on the wall but not daring to look at any of them.

 

Muttering a half warning to the other man rummaging in the home with him that he’d be making noise upstairs, he started opening doors and going through the mental checklist of areas to scavenge. The bathroom held a lot of goods and so did one of the bedrooms, the master bedroom to be exact. Made very nicely and for a moment it looked as if nothing was wrong with the world. But it was only for a moment. He eventually had to drop his full bag down and get an empty one tossed up to him to continue stuffing with anything that could be useful to them, which was a lot but still, he made his rounds. Coming up to the last door, he was surprised to hear some form of shuffling inside the room, wood creaking, clothing sliding against other cloth; it was so easy to notice these little things in the dead silence everyone walked around in On instinct he called up his weapon, the familiar weight in his hand bringing him into ‘battle mode’ as he liked to call it. He took a deep breath, hoped that it was just a goblin or something easy, turned the knob and swung the door open as fast and as hard as he could to catch the daemon off guard. He raised his weapon and cocked it back, legs spreading to support his stance as he aimed towards the creature crying. Everything came slow after that, so unlike any moment of battle he was used to.

 

That wasn’t the cry of a daemon ready to pounce upon you and rip you to shreds, this cry was far worse in fact. It was a child, frightened, screeching as if they were being killed—in the back of his mind Prompto had the thought to drop his gun, he _was_ trying to kill it at first—and he covered his ears from the noise. It was unnatural and he hadn’t heard that particular cry in a few weeks ever since he left the families back in Lestallum. It echoed loudly and pained him to hear, gaining his bearings in what little way he could, he rushed to the crib—Gods, it was a crib and this was a child’s room—peaking down to see the smallest, most fragile looking child he’d ever seen squirming around inside. Face red, tears spilling down their cheeks, tiny hands clenched into fists as it continued to wail. He scared the ever living hell out of it thanks to his little stunt and all color drained from his face when he realized just how unprepared and dumbstruck he was in this situation. He could barely make out the confused shouts coming from the rest of the crew down below, the thudding footsteps as they tried to figure out what was going on. He wanted to know, too.

 

He felt like a kid again, he felt really dumb like he just upset someone’s little sister and was trying not to get in trouble for it. He panicked and did the first thing he always does when he panics—laughs and smiles. He picked up the child and hoped he was doing it correctly as he cradled the baby in his arms and bounced around because that’s what one did to soothe a crying baby right? He had no idea. He hopped from foot to foot as gently as he could, hushed and cooed, rubbed the child’s back—did anything he could think of to do. Somehow, bless the Astrals, it worked and the crying came to a slow stop. The poor thing looked so tired and scared and Prompto wanted to hit himself for being the one who caused it. Instead he leaned back against one of the walls and slid down into a sitting position, letting it all slowly sink in as the tiny human clung onto his shirt. It was a child’s bedroom he barged into, ready to fight for his life. Not even a child, a _baby’s nursery._ He glanced at the décor and items upon the shelves, toys and baby books, small little shoes and knick-knacks; all of it for the little one still fidgeting in his hold, still fighting, still alive and kicking. How easily that could be different and on that thought, Prompto scrubbed at his eyes when he heard the thundering footsteps come closer.

 

“What the hell was that, that sounded like- “Gladio’s exclamation was cut short when he caught sight of the blonde, crumpled up on the floor and curling around a child in his arms; a scene he never thought he’d see. He turned around quickly, walking with a steady stride over to the banister.

 

Leaning over and peering down at the men below, in a shaken but steady voice, he made one request, “Get Ignis.”

 

* * *

 

“Alright, make sure you’re supporting his head,”

“Got it,”

“How is he sleeping; calm or distressed?”

“Little dude is chill…”

“Good,”

 

Prompto sighed softly and let his eyes scan over the child’s face once more, having been staring at him ever since he ended up in his arms. Thanks to Ignis and his ever calm rationalization, he easily took hold of the situation and leveled everything out. Prompto's nerves were still frazzled but he had better ground of what was happening and what needed to happen. At the moment, they're sitting on the edge of the truck bed Prompto had arrived in, the little boy he found wrapped in warm blankets and sleeping once more. It was decided that they would care for the baby and take him back to Lestallum for the time being, along with the rest of the refugees. Prompto had asked many of the survivors of they knew who the boy was or who his parents were but most of them had no clue the baby was even born. A neighbor had mentioned the woman who owned the home being pregnant but had assumed she became a homebody after the child was delivered. Now with the chaos of the land and people dropping like flies without protection of the sun, there were no witnesses to what had happened to the mother of the baby. No other resident was willing to take the child in to care for him either, so traumatized or worried over their own family that they wanted nothing to do with a newborn. It crushed Prompto's heart, nearly bringing him to tears over the fate this child had been flung into.

 

He was still so young, the medical help that traveled with them did their best to determine age or any sort of illness the baby could have. To the best of their knowledge, he was underweight and heavily uncared for; whoever his mother was she was gone for a long time. How had no one noticed? Or heard the child's obvious crying, surely he was wailing for hours upon hours yet no one here decided to check? Prompto's hands shook in anger and disgust but he willed himself to calm down and listen to more of Ignis' instructions. He brushed the unruly black hair out of the thin yet rounded face of the baby rested in his arms. He'd never seen a baby with this much hair already, it was almost unnatural if it didn't make him look so cute. It was fluffy and tousled thanks to the quick bath one of the helpers had given him just moments before. Prompto requested that he should be the one to hold and comfort the baby since he was the one who found it—a bit childish he knows but it had worked— as he somehow found himself responsible for him quickly. He wanted to personally make sure he was going to be alright; treated with the up most care and softest of touches that one could offer. Not that he doubted that any of the medical staff wouldn't do so, simply, the boy looked so delicate and doll like when he found him lying in his crib.

 

He was so pale and thin and didn't seem to have energy for anything other than crying and even then it sounded so angry and desperate; truly a call for help from one so incredibly helpless. Prompto could understand that. He shifted on his knees to the back of the truck bed and sat against the camper, Ignis sat beside him. He looked up to the sky—noticing how faint the stars were getting and how weak the moonlight was—and let out a shaky sigh. It was one incredulous situation right after another these days.

 

* * *

 

Wandering around much like a lost puppy Prompto found that he couldn't really do anything to help but relay information what with his arms full, literally. At some point during the trip back to Lestallum the baby they had found refused to be held by anyone else other then the man who had found him. This made check-ups difficult but not impossible as Prompto did his best to cooperate with the staff and the squirming child. The ride back to the town was shorter than the drive out and Prompto was silently thankful, although he felt useless at this point. He attempted to help unpack supplies but yet again, the baby was _not_ happy to leave his hold so he couldn't assist with unloading anything. His current job was to let everyone know what was going on and guide the refugees through the right path of shoddy customs they managed to set-up by the entrance to the town. Every system they had going on was still fairly new and uncertain. There was no single person in charge to ask for advice or to make decisions on anything; everything sort of came to be out of need. People gathered together and created teams; helpers, workers, anything anyone who wasn't strong willed enough or capable of doing something, those people did it instead. The look for more refugees had only begun just two months ago but already there was a great impact on morale to see so many survivors, so many families still kept together in these devastating times. Prompto was happy for them.

 

He himself had no one. He had Ignis and Gladio but it just wasn't the same as it was before all of this, they were close but there was an unspoken shift in the way their dynamic worked after _he_ had left. Shaking his head of such depressing thoughts—knowing they would come to haunt him later that night anyways—he made his way to the clinic upon desperate request of a nurse who was steadily pushing him along. Skittering inside and quickly to the empty bed in the back that he was being ushered to, he very gently set the baby down as he was instructed to do. He stayed by his side and kept a hand on the child’s head trying somehow to reassure the infant that he was still around so he possibly wouldn’t cry. He let the staff do their work from that moment on, barely paying attention to any of the medical jargon they were spouting out at one another and only asking any questions he seemed fit were important to know about the baby. He was underweight, sickly and in desperate need of constant care. Against everything that his gut seemed to be telling him, he had to leave the baby in their care for the night. It felt wrong, like he should be at his side at all times but he was whisked away for labor work and did his best to let his mind become preoccupied with other things that needed his attention.

 

It didn’t work as best as he had hoped. In fact, he wasn’t able to go back into the clinic with it being so busy with all of the new people that were rushing inside and he was sent to bed by Ignis shortly after. He had started to pace around the small room he was using during his stay in Lestallum—he didn’t really want to call anywhere home nowadays—and couldn’t help but let his mind wander over every possible horrible outcome that could befall the newborn. Whatever was happening that baby didn’t deserve it one bit whatsoever, wasn’t being born during these horrific times a tragedy enough? Why did the Astrals have to do these things all the damn time? Always have to throw loss after loss and terrible situations down upon those who didn’t do anything wrong, just like Noctis?

 

He froze in place and clasped his hands together to stop them from shaking as badly as they did whenever he thought of his boyfriend. He didn’t even know if he was allowed to call him that anymore. The more and more he began to remember all of their time spent together and the scene that caused him and the Prince to spill out ‘Boyfriend’ to one another the more his legs became like jelly. He sat on the edge of the small twin sized bed—hunched over forehead resting against the side of his wrists. Taking deep long breathes, shifting his boots over the old wooden floor, squeezing his hands tight and pressing crescent shapes in the skin with his blunt nails—he began to pray. He wasn’t ever one to do such a thing back in the day and especially after what he had witnessed firsthand he had plenty of doubts that the Astrals held good intentions for mortals but pray he did that night. He prayed for tomorrow; for it to be smooth and easy and for everyone to get along. He prayed for Ignis and Gladio; that they were taking everything much better than he was even after a whole year had passed. He prayed for the baby; that he would come out of this spry and with great health, that this world wouldn’t do him harm like it had done to himself. With that out of the way and his emotions over that certain person pushed to the very depths of his mind, he toed the worn boots off his feet and collapsed onto the bed without bothering to cover up in anything.

 

He would visit the clinic first thing whenever he woke up, he would shove people out of his way if that’s what it meant to make sure he knew the baby was okay.


	2. Chapter 2

Slowly but surely, Prompto’s days began to be filled with nothing but caring for the baby. At first it was a necessity since the child is so fickle and only seems to calm down in his arms, none of the nurse’s or doctors could hold him when doing check-ups or feedings. It then became routine; he would visit and spend time with the baby-yet-to-be-named—they really should get on that—and he would help out with whatever the staff needed him to help out with. He learned how to give general care for a newborn as He had spent so much time around. He never once thought of it as a chore and after the first two days he enjoyed it, getting to see the baby become livelier and do better on all of the tests they were able to run on him. He got to speak to all of the nice men and women working their asses off to keep the hunters running properly. It felt good to be surrounded by all of these warm caring figures and everyone was so nice to him all the time.

 

Like every good thing however, it had to end; only one week into this type of lifestyle and he was called away to rush over to Hammerhead upon Cindy’s request. He couldn’t deny it—not only because it was Cindy and she was amazingly nice—because it was a cry for help and he had promised to take care of the truck stop for her and Cid. So with a heavy rock set in his stomach and the tightest feeling in his chest, he bid goodbye to the baby he had been spending most of his waking hours with. It hurt him and surprised him that it did, walking further away from the building he began to get choked up and his breaths turned shallow. He broke into a jog and scrubbed at his eyes to stop whatever tears were threatening to spill and he made his way to the edge of town where his car was waiting for him.

 

* * *

 

Fighting by yourself was hard, especially if you're Prompto. He's strong enough, fast enough, and despite what many people think he's smart enough to do it. He had simply become so accustomed to having back-up; teammates and brothers to fight with that now that their voices and cries of battle are no longer ringing in his head—simply his own screams of anguish and effort—it was hard. Silent, suffocating almost as he had to watch his own back from now on and his nerves were surely to kill him before the Daemons do. He limped back towards his car parked on the barely visible dirt road, leaning against its side and wincing when the beat up vehicle creaked and groaned under his weight. What he would do for a potion or elixer at the moment, gripping his right bicep tightly where a thick gash bleeds out down the rest of his arm. At least the Daemons were taken care of, the ones that were too aggressive near the truck stop and bothering people while they worked on getting a fence up around the perimeter. He slowly heaved his aching body into the drivers seat—spent a good twenty minutes sitting there with his eyes closed in silence—and started driving back down the road, heading for the glowing beacon of light in the distance that was Hammerhead.

 

The shaking of the car and the loud, clattering engine drew attention from Daemons but he was speeding far too fast for any of them to care about running after him. The boisterous noise made him sorely miss the smooth clean engines of Insomnia's old finest machinery, the push to start silent thrum down the highway. His eyes flickered to the moon again—noticing how it's slowly losing the bright glow it used to bless down upon him. He attempted to swallow, throat scratchy and dry, raw from all of his frustrated yelling and grunting. He can't wait to flop down and crash on the couch in Cindy's garage, maybe sleep for the next ten or so hours. Prompto can't really fathom how much longer he's going to be able handle doing things like this for people, this isn't what he was meant to do. But he remembers all of the people in Lestallum, all of the bodies he's seen, the countless family losses and abandoned children. Like the baby boy he found. They didn't have a choice in what happened to them or where they are now. Neither does he but unlike many of them he has the strength and damn it all, he has the will to change and adapt.

 

He steps down on the pedal harder, flying across the blackened desert with his bright shining headlights like some shooting star in the night.

 

 

 

 

 

"God's bless that baby boy," Cindy huffed and frowned, stopping her work after Prompto finished his story.

 

Cindy is always asks how he is and how everyone in Lestallum is doing, the kind hearted woman that she is caused her to consistently worry if everyone she knows is okay. The answer is typically always the same; a form of 'Well, things are going' and whether that 'going' is good or bad or somewhere in-between, Prompto really can't say. He bit into one corner of the fabric wrapped around his bicep and gripped the other corner, tugging on both ends to tighten it's hold on his wound.

 

He gave a slight muffled 'mhmm' in reply to Cindy and promptly fell back onto the couch he was sitting—and bleeding—on. His skin, joints and bones were filled with a dull throbbing ache any time he even so much as thought of moving, let alone the sharp growing pain of all his cuts and bruises and the gash on his bicep. He had to train and get better, come up with new techniques or at least start a workout regimen again; he can't keep fighting at his current level. But he can get to a higher one, he knows he can. Just until he comes back.

 

This was one of the first times Prompto actually had some news to tell Cindy. How there's a system forming for the refugees—along with a system for the community in general—and that there were thankfully many more survivors then they had originally thought. Everyone is still sort of shell shocked about the world but humans are known for their adaptability and there's been enough time for things to change drastically. He also told her about the baby he found, how young he was, how it was the first actual _baby_ he's seen in a long time. Sure there are kids and toddlers around but no one has really tried to make any more of them in a world like this. He explained how attatched the little boy had gotten to him so quickly and how he enjoys spending so much time around him.

 

"You sound mighty fond've that baby, Sunshine." Cindy picked her screwdriver back up and leaned over her desk again, working on surely some radical killing machine Prompto has no idea of.

 

"Duh, he's a cute little baby; who wouldn't grow attatched?" he drumed his fingers on his stomach, staring up at the high ceilings of the garage.

 

Cindy scoffed and smiled, "Is'not what I mean, but I'll leave it be fer now."

 

He nearly spoke up to question what she meant exactly but instead just closed his eyes, letting her rhythmic banging, drilling and clanging metal work drown out the distant howls of Daemons outside. He fell asleep faster than he was expecting he would.

 

* * *

 

The clock on his car radio read '8:30 AM' as he headed back to Lestallum. Monsters defeated, belly full and Hammerhead safe until next time; he made his way to the city to continue helping Gladio and Ignis. He's been sort of following them around like a lost puppy ever since the sun went away—and in a way he is a lost puppy. He's lost, confused and sad. But if there's anything Prompto knows it's how to cover up his emotions. And guns—he knows guns pretty damn well.

 

Entering the tunnel just before Lestallum he watched as the light bled through it's entirety, illuminating it like some sort of flashlight on the road then nearly blinding him when he exited the other side. He nodded and waved at one of the guards posted at the entrance, slowing down as he came into the city. Things we're as lively as ever even now; people carrying boxes and machinery back and forth, women working double time and the men stepping up to help as well, hunters abound and weapons out freely due to the circumstances. More and more people were learning to fight and although there were plenty against the idea, weaponry and fighting tactics were slowly becoming common topics.

 

He pulled into a parking space outside the building he had been sleeping in recently, noticing Ignis sitting out front on one of the chairs. He approached him casually and flopped onto the other seat, grunting at the effort as his body is still sore. Ignis sipped at his cup he picked up from the table.

 

"How did it go?"

 

"Shitty, but got it done. Y'know. The usual."

 

"I see. I took liberty to clean your room, by the way. It was an absolute mess."

 

"Oh yeah? Thanks, Iggs!"

 

Ignis hummed and set his cup down, rolling his walking cane around in his hands that rest on his lap. He was getting so much better with it, with difficulties but ones he's quick to surpass. Leave it to Ignis to take something like this in stride and come out the same man he always was. Prompto was truly thankful to still have him here at his side despite the various strains that have hit their relationship over the years, including Gladio.

 

He stayed outside with Ignis for a few more minutes, making small talk over the good changes in Lestallum so far as a whole. He thought about going inside for a nap—Astrals know he needs and deserves one after only getting three hours previously—but thought against it. He actually had someone he wanted to check up on before doing anything else.

 

Bidding goodbye—and getting a well meant lecture about being more careful in battle—he made his way down the streets and various alleyway shortcuts. He smiled softly when he saw the clinics sign in the distance, gently pushing the door open once he strolled up and was greeted by the nurse at the front desk.

 

"Welco— Oh, look at that cut!!" she stood quickly and rushed to his side, looking over his arm and cloth hastily wrapped around it.

 

He was chastised once more on his well being before yanked onto a free bed and lovingly cared for by the nurses. They were very kind older women who loved to listen to him ramble on and then fire back with their own rambles. They made him feel cozy.

 

The lady fastened the gauze tightly for pressure and gave a few gentle pats with a warm wrinkled smile, "There we are, sweetie."

 

"Thank you," Prompto sighed with relief, the pain killers already kicking in. He's going to miss them when they run out at some point, inevitably.

 

"But I'm sure that's not why you really showed up…?"

 

"Ah, ya got me!" he grinned at the way she chuckled from his antics—still the funny guy to break the tension, "how is the little guy?"

 

"Fairing much better now that he's in our care. You want to see him, yes?" she stood slowly and shuffled her way to a separate room they had made into a makeshift nursery.

 

A younger nurse was in the middle of a feeding but with a few kind words from the older woman he gladly handed the baby over to Prompto.

 

He took the seat the male nurse was previously in and cradled the infant in his arms, holding him and the bottle at just the right angle and it felt like all of his worries faded away as he looked down upon the child's soft, pale face. He was so peaceful now, gaining weight and eating like it was his job. Prompto leaned back in the seat and just watched, using his thumb to gently play with and brush at the ebony hair atop the baby's head. The nurses quickly closed the door and left him be, he didn't even notice they had left.

 

How could something so graciously precious come into a world like this? Abandoned by his mother no less, left there to starve and grow sick. It made Prompto sick. He curled his arms tighter and brought the infant closer, feeling his eyes begin to tingle and water up with tears. He quickly wiped them off on his forearm as best he could; weeping for the child and for the long few days at Hammerhead, reassuring himself that he had the strength in him to keep going. Driving it into his head that helping people, fighting and going out into the darkness was worth it if he could witness things like this miracle in his arms. If precious things like this gorgeous baby could fight and thrive and still be a possibility then he would fight and thrive to protect and save it.

 

He fell asleep in the chair a few hours later, even after the feeding was over he kept the baby in his arms to coo, coddle and watch over. None of the nurses tried to take the baby from him, simply laid a blanket over his lap and turned the lights off in the nursery.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bare with me guys, i'm not used to doing multi-chapter fics so story and "stuff that makes sense" might get wonky and unbelievable at some points, though i hope they don't!
> 
> Oh, i also decided to give out my tumblr URL so y'all can comment over there or even talk to me about my fic on my blog! Hit up StarCrave to message me!

_"It would be good to let him get some fresh air, right?"_

 

Walking with a baby in your arms was a lot more nerve wracking then simply sitting with one. Prompto was overly cautious of everyone around him and everything he was doing to the point of panic, simply strolling down the main walk way into the center of town. The head doctor had suggested that Prompto—the one who came up with the idea of letting the infant get more fresh air and outside contact to 'toughen him up'—should be the one to walk around with him outside.

 

Prompto wasn't dumb; he could tell that they were making him personally care for and look after the baby boy more often than any other professional person. He was just some scrawny guy that so happened to have a strong attachment to seeing the baby day in and day out any time he was in Lestallum. It's not like he made sure to stay in town longer than usual or wake up earlier just to spend more time with the adorable boy. Totally not that he's almost a little, sort of baby crazy.

 

It was just shy of three months since they first found Junior—the baby's current acquainted name—and he has been a delight ever since. Prompto's first instinct when coming back into Lestallum used to be to go where he slept and catch up with Ignis, Gladio and Iris. Now Prompto quickly headed over to the clinic and said hello to Junior and spent his first few hours back in town with the infant. He had no regrets. Feeling more anxious than he had a right to be in the moment, he sat down on a plastic chair left out in front of an old restaurant, watching the crowd of people pass by.

 

"It's getting pretty lively again, right, Junior?" Prompto grinned and looked down into his arms.

 

Junior looked back up at him, gorgeous teal eyes flickering about before returning to rapidly glance at everything else. Prompto wondered what he was thinking about. He gave a very gentle poke to Junior's cheek before looking back up and continuing to people watch; making various soft comments to the baby any time he thought of a good joke or saw something particularly weird.

 

He jumped and jostled Junior about in his arms—quickly coddling him in apology—when Gladio's loud voice caught him off guard.

 

"What, you his father now?"

 

Gladio was slowly becoming upset with how much time Prompto was spending with the baby. He kept reiterating that there were better and more important things to spend his hours on which irked the young man since he did everything he was asked of to do and still accompanied many hunters to go slaughter Daemons. He deserved at least a few hours every day to feel like everything is okay, didn't he?

 

"No, man, I already told you no one else will do this stuff for him," Prompto nearly spat, far more than fed up with the Amicitia's hounding at this point.

 

Iris—bless her heart—was much more happy and encouraging over Junior. She came as often as she could but it was clear that hunting and fighting was where her heart belonged.

 

Gladio scoffed and rolled his eyes, folding his arms in an intimidating posture—one Prompto couldn't care about anymore.

 

"Well go give him back to the clinic; we've got work to do."

 

It was Prompto's turn to roll his eyes, rising slowly as to not disturb the baby and him—admittedly with a lot of sass—strutted off away from Gladio. Today wasn't going to be ruined, not when Junior looked so peaceful and healthy, not when he had finally slept without a nightmare, not when somehow things were looking to be okay.

 

Gladio followed him like a judgmental shadow and Prompto had to fight his deep set social awkwardness just to talk normally with the nurses and to give Junior a kiss on his head when he handed him back. Gladio could tease and make as many jokes as he wanted; it wasn't going to affect Prompto…that much.

 

* * *

 

"When he _finally_ burped, he spit up all over the poor nurse!"

 

Iris snorted in laughter, nearly spitting her own drink as Prompto retold the event of that morning.

 

"Oh gosh, she had it comin' though! You don't bounce a baby _that_ much!" She giggled and took another sip of Ebony. Poor thing, Ignis got her hooked on the stuff.

 

"Aw, but he's an angel, though. You really have to come see him again." Prompto took the last drink of his beer, tossing the bottle into the nearby trash can with a soft 'yes!' as it landed inside.

 

"Of course, Prompto, I'll see your baby soon!"

 

Prompto sighed, "why does everyone keep saying that?! Junior isn't _my_ baby he's just _a_ baby."

 

"Aren't you practically his dad, though?" The question in her tone sounded almost surprised, like she couldn't believe what he said.

 

Prompto's was the same, eyes widening, "no, I'm not! I just take care of him and spend time with him since no one else seems to have the time to do."

 

"Hm, whatever you say." Iris grinned and rolled the can in her hand absentmindedly. She seemed to grow somber, a serious yet lost look overcoming her features.

 

Prompto noticed this and sat up a bit straighter in his seat, "Iris? Is everything good?"

 

"Huh?"

 

"You look…thoughtful. I've seen that look before. What's on your mind?"

 

She sighed, setting the can down and pushing it away from her, "I wanna join the hunters. Well, I wanna _become_ a hunter, is more accurate."

 

Prompto nodded, turning to face her more head on.

 

She continued, "Gladdy likes to boast that I'm strong and how proud he is of me yet he gets super protective and like, angry when I go fighting y’ know? Like he hates it almost and it's really annoying when I'm trying to be the girl he's proud of—" she leaned over and set her forehead on the table "I know I gotta do what I wanna and to follow my heart, blah blah…just not ready for the confrontation."

 

Prompto nodded and set his hand on her head to give a few friendly pats. Knowing Iris, he didn't really have to say much in return; just letting her spill it out was what she needed. He doesn't envy her for having to deal with what she's going through, especially so young, but he will gladly support her in any decision she makes—even one where she's consistently fighting Daemons and so on. He just hopes Gladiolus will do the same.

 

She eventually ended up staying the night—exhausted from all the work she's been doing—and Prompto let her have the bed while he crashed on the sofa. In a way, he had become some sort of odd uncle to the young teen and she was known to come to him for advice or even a place to stay with company. He doesn't mind it at all, it's nice to have friends, especially now.

 

* * *

 

Wringing the wash cloth out just enough for it to stay damp, he handed it back over to the doctor who was cleaning Junior. Cilvia was humming a soft tune as she did so, now the designated care taker for him. Prompto had gotten to know her well because of that, all of his free time now dedicated to the baby. He couldn't seem to bring himself to fully part with Junior, feeling responsible for the child since he had no one besides the nurses and doctors but alas; even they were starting to show signs of stress and discomfort in keeping a baby around as he needed constant supervision and care.

 

"No one came by today saying they would take him in?" Prompto leaned against the counter and smiled as Junior squirmed slightly, fussing over his bath.

 

Cilvia shrugged, "Not at all. We thought _somebody_ would be willing to, especially after we had the hunters give an announcement for it but…I suppose everyone has their own problems and kin to deal with."

 

Prompto frowned, reaching forward to hold onto Junior's hand and let the infant curl his tiny fingers around his single one. How could anyone not want something so precious? How could one turn away a newborn like this, not want to give it a proper home or love? Junior gives the cutest sounds and has the most expressive eyes; he's so attentive and incredibly curious. Prompto loves the little guy and would kill to have him be okay and raised properly, it's the _least_ he deserves, to have a good family and a good up bringing even in times like today.

 

Not for the first time, a thought crosses his mind as he gently bites into his lip. He's done all the hard self-reflective thinking that comes with when you begin considering something a little drastic like this; a choice and situation that had to be prepared for beforehand. He rubbed the tiny hand clasped around his index finger with his thumb, releasing his lip into a grin with the baby cooed under the warm water.

 

"Do you think," he started, throat suddenly dry as he spoke the thought out loud for the first time, "maybe, uh…maybe I could take him in?"

 

There was a pause, Cilvia held the cloth to Junior's belly as she seemed to have frozen for a few second. She then continued her cleaning and the smile that stretched across her face could only be described as relief.

 

"We were all waiting for you to ask that, you know…!"

 

Prompto stood up straight, a little confused and a little embarrassed, "Really? Man…was I that obvious?"

 

She laughed, then, picking Junior up out of the water, "more than you know! Besides; we were all hoping he would go to someone who looks at him the way you do."

 

Prompto helped her wrap the baby up in a towel, gently rubbing at his hair and chest to warm him up and dry his body.

 

"What do you mean 'looks at him the way you do?'"

 

She drained the water and turned to face him, "You look at him the way a parent does. Full of love and care, so fond and warm. We've all noticed it."

 

He glanced down at Junior, confused and brows furrowed as he tried to think about what she had said. She just chuckled and moved to grab clothes for the baby.

 

Cilvia promised to speak with the head doctor about setting up legal adoption—saying that even in these times they had to remember to follow certain steps and rules. He had no complaints and left Junior in her care, hurrying back to the building he was staying in. Currently there was no rent that needed to be paid, no bills either as all of those things were seen as what they are; basic necessities to live. Sooner or later he knows that money will come back into circulation but as the world was thrust into a semi-apocalypse, he needn't worry at the moment.

 

Stepping inside the home—not exactly one yet but it will be—he felt panic start to sink into his heart. Was this a good place to raise a baby? What does 'a good place' even look like? More importantly; why hadn’t he thought of all this before proposing the idea? He began to pace and stare at the dirty carpet he was making ever the grimier with his boots, desperately trying to recall any and everything he could remember about baby care from his days back in Insomnia. He rushed to his room and grabbed that notepad Ignis left behind, quickly scribbling down his wary thoughts as fast as his now nervously shaking fingers could muster.

 

There was a hasty list in his hands a few minutes later, hard to read even for himself but it was a place to start no matter how shoddy the penmanship. He needed to baby proof things and take away stuff the kid couldn't get hurt on, that was the most obvious thing. He needed to clean—really clean the entire place, like taking a machine to the carpets and the couch or even looking for another entirely if that was possible. The baby would need toys and a crib, a high chair, clothes, special food and milk, constant care, education, guidance, affection and comfort.

 

There were so many things. The baby would need so many things. He clutched the notepad close to his chest and took deep breaths to prevent any attacks that were surely coming on. He now knew why so many other parents and families didn't want to take Junior in, let alone as another child on top of others. It was more than intimidating; it felt down right impossible. He began to doubt himself and whimper, wondering if he had made a mistake and for a second he started to prepare to rush down to the clinic and vehemently deny his earlier proposition. Instead he flopped on the couch—getting a whiff of it he definitely needed a new one—he closed his eyes for a brief moment.

 

He could do this. He had the will and the strength, and God's help him, he had the love to go through with this. He was going to be a dad. He was going to have a baby.

 

He was going to give every ounce of his being into raising that beautiful baby boy, no matter the trials ahead of him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter than the others but just enough to buy me time to try and stockpile chapters!

"Son of a-!"  Prompto quickly brought the injured thumb into his mouth to suck at the slight blood that was now prickling out of his skin.

 

He glared at the nail and then at the hammer on his hand, wanting so desperately to just fling the tool as hard as possible to the ground. Instead he himself flopped to the concrete floor with a desperate sigh escaping his lips. He didn't know what he was doing—as per usual nowadays. He didn't know how to build a crib at all; he was good with guns, machinery and technology not furniture. With a low groan rumbling in the back of his throat Prompto rose to his aching feet—wobbling on tired lanky legs—and dropped the hammer with a promise to his future son to try working on it again tomorrow. Junior wasn't in his incapable hands just yet as he begged the clinic to give him more time to prepare—so far it looked like the right choice to make.

 

He had gotten some cleaning done and on the last supply run they were making he even managed to convince some hunters to lug back a new couch for him. All he needed was to move the rest of his "gear" into his "office" and wash the carpets. That was it when it came to cleaning at least; there was so much more left to do in whole. It sent cold shivers down his spine whenever he thought about how much work a child is but he pushed it to the back of his mind at the prospect of giving Junior some little sliver of a good life during this dark hell. He stumbled to the kitchen and shoved his head under the faucet to cool down—the disc still burning hotter than ever.

 

Prompto was neglecting on telling any of his immediate friends about him taking up the responsibility of junior full time, about him adopting a son. Along with his usual anxieties about people not trusting or being disappointed in his decisions; there was a twist in his gut and a throb in his head that was telling him they would disapprove stronger than ever about this particular choice he's made. Maybe because it was a choice made on a gut feeling or maybe because they still to this day find him incompetent. He's not ready to face that just yet. He shook his hair free of water and just used a hair clip to keep it off his face. Since he hasn't been too worried about styling it lately Iris has giving him a few things to keep it from bothering him with how long it's getting.

 

Next biggest thing besides the crib is baby clothes and food for Junior, which he supposed he can go look for himself but it's much easier to just hit up an old shop in some distant town with others than to go venturing off by himself. He knew all that would come in time and he would be by himself at some point in the future but he would take advantage of companionship as much as possible while he still had it. He took another stop by the clinic to see his future baby boy and get in as much play time as possible before he had to build more shelters and help more refugees. He casually stepped inside and into the back, waving to a few of the workers as everyone knew him by now, making his way to Junior’s nursery but paused for a second when he saw the door already open.

 

It’s not uncommon after all since Junior has his caretaker so Prompto made his way in through the open door with a wide smile on his face. It fell very quickly when he was faced with an odd woman he hadn’t seen before, standing there with his future child in her arms. She has long thick black hair and that was as much as he could tell before something almost violent churned inside of him and he lurched forward, hands reaching out to grab her arms or fold his hands over Junior, tempted to pull him out of her grasp.

 

He hissed “Who are you…?” while prying the baby away from her and she calmly handed him over, looking a bit shocked.

 

“Hey, don’t worry, I’m allowed to be here the Doctor let me in.” She spoke softly and slow to sate him and it just almost made him angrier. He gave her a quick once over and let an inaudible sigh escape as he relaxed.

 

He tried to keep his tone stern and strong “Well I’m…I’m one of Junior’s caretakers so…what were you doing in here and why didn’t I know about it?”

 

She turned from him at that, walking back towards the area they kept for Junior to sleep in, running her hand along the fabric, “I used to take care of kids back where I worked before, so, they asked me to come in…give some “expertise”” she made air quotes with her fingers and turned back to face him, leaning against the furniture.

 

She gave a soft, kind smile but there was a glint in her eyes that threw something off about her demeanor. She held out a hand for him.

 

“My name is Ophelia, nice to meet you. Sorry I scared you by touching Junior, here.”

 

Prompto didn’t shake her hand. He just nodded and edged to the door, leaning against the frame. He muttered “Prompto,” and turned to lean into the hall, “Cilvia!”

 

She came shuffling down the hall, a bit fast due to the tone in which Prompto had called for her, surprise written all over her face as she shuffled the folders in her arms and stopped in front of him, looking to Junior in his arms.

 

“Is everything alright, hon? Is Junior okay…?” she shifted her papers to one arm and touched the infant’s forehead gently in worry. He swore at himself for his still panicked thoughts, pulling his baby away from Cilvia’s touch and it seemed his frazzled nerves were evident as she only looked more concerned.

 

Prompto smiled and relaxed as he spoke “Ah, he’s fine…! Actually, I just wanted to ask you, um…why is this woman here? Or I guess, why wasn’t I told she was going to have access to Junior?”

 

Cilvia leaned in to the room, pursed lips and gave a thoughtful hum before returning her attention back to Prompto, “She said she knew how to take care of babies and toddlers, she volunteered to be his new nanny. You were gone for a long while and what wit how busy we are no one could give you the news.”

 

As Junior wiggled around now waking and squirming about in curiosity, Prompto shifted him a little better with furrowed brows as he spoke, “Um…what? Why would you need to bring a new caretaker in for him, you were only just assigned to him not that long ago, I don’t...understand?”

 

“Oh, Prompto, we’re so busy with caring for all the new refugees and all of these hunters getting mauled by Daemons, we don’t have the staff or time to dote over Junior as much as we’d like. It’s why we were hoping you would come bring him in with you sooner, but, Ophelia will be taking care of him from now on…”

 

Prompto made a strangled noise from the back of his throat and glanced over at Ophelia—she was touching the blankets again with that weird look in her eye—and he felt his stomach churn. He didn’t trust anyone he didn’t know with his son especially her, there’s something off about her and maybe it’ll be better when he actually speaks with her more often but for now he blurts out anything he can to protect himself and his baby.

 

“I-I’ll take him, right now,” he starts before he can cut himself off, “I have everything set and ready, no worries.” Ophelia looks over at this, walking closer.

 

“You’re adopting the boy?” she leans over just the smallest bit, her eyes flickering between his face and juniors. He pulled him even closer to his chest.

 

“Yeah, I am, it’s already been decided.”

 

“I can help, you know. If you ever need to know anything or just want some tips, I took care of a lot of babies for my sisters.” She folded her arms and gave him a soft smile but it was almost cold and meant only to try and soothe his panicked heartbeat rather than mean sincerity.

 

“Yeah, I’ll, uh….I’ll think about it. Cilvia, are the papers done for all the legal stuff…?” He shifted from his left foot to his right, not sparing a glance towards Ophelia. He’ll have to talk to her when Junior is not around, maybe he’s just frantic and she’s actually a really nice woman, but he can’t bite back the bile that threatens to rise in his throat when he thinks of any other touching his child at the moment.

 

Cilvia nods and takes him down the hall to the office and he stands impatiently in the doorway as he watches her gather the papers and put them in a slightly dirty manila folder. He gathers the folder along with a bag Cilvia and Ophelia put together of all of the things the clinic has to offer to help him with the baby such as the rest of the diapers they had, bottles, blankets and the clothes he first arrived in. It was all they had. Ophelia gave an odd look to the clothes, rubbing her thumb over the logo and making an off comment about it that Prompto didn’t hear as he very quickly found himself standing outside on the sidewalk with a diaper bag and a baby in his arms.

 

_What did he get himself into? What is he doing right now?_

 

Junior coos and smacks him in the face and he jumps in a startle, frowning at the baby. He then smiles, lets out a nervous, airy chuckle and somehow composes himself enough to start walking towards his home with his son close to his heart.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little heavy in this chapter.

"Its sooo hooot…"

 

"Ha-ha! Take it as a blessing, dude, at least we get to be out n' about!"

 

The Prince smirked and adjusted the fishing pole in his hand, stealing a glance at his gorgeous boyfriend sitting beside him on the dock. The hot warmth of the sun's glow bathed them in a lazy summer haze, a slight breeze rustling their hair.

 

"Yeah, you're right. Sunshine, you're a blessing."

 

"What did I tell you about calling me that?! It’s embarrassing!"

 

"Sorry Prom. I just love you too much."

 

"That's cheesy as hell, bro…"

 

Prompto opened his eyes slowly, blearily, the fuzzy ceiling fan coming further into view as his mind starts to process his surroundings. Bitterly and fondly, he remembers what he said in that memory turned haunting dream.

 

"Love you too," the man mumbled as he rubbed tears from his eyes. He felt pathetic.

 

He turned to roll over, trying to get comfortable on his side when he felt the light weight on his chest. With a sleepy gaze he looked upon his son lying across his upper torso, fast asleep and content. He wrapped his arm around the infant and let a soft smile grace his features, very gently pushing hair out of his baby's face. Junior had been with him for five days now and so far they were all amazing. Sure, he kept waking up at gods know what hour when the boy was crying for all sorts of things and he was panicking almost every day if he was taking care of him properly but so far, his baby was happy and healthy. Pressing his lips to the top of his head as carefully as he could to not wake Junior, Prompto gave his son a soft kiss and let the small warmth and loving affection lull him back to sleep.

 

* * *

 

"LOOK AT HIM, HE'S ADORABLE, HE'S THE MOST PRECIOUS THING I'VE EVER SEEN!"

 

Prompto laughed as he watched Iris ogle over Junior, the baby cradled in her arms as she sat on the couch. So far, she was the only one who knew Junior was here with him, in his home and custody. Telling the guys now about the baby adoption seemed even more daunting since he already had Junior in his care.

 

Iris kept cooing and making all kinds of baby noises as she rocked him in her hold, grinning madly.  Prompto smiled warmly at the sight before looking down at his pistol in his hands. He rubbed the engraving with his thumb, the ' _Quicksilve_ r' staring back at him like a bitter memory. He lets it go, watching the pretty blue crystals swallow the weapon and send it back into His pocket dimension.

 

Prompto turns to Iris to ask, "You want to go for a walk?"

 

She smiles and stands, giving Junior a gentle poke to his soft cheek, "You bet!"

 

Prompto triple checks that everything is locked up before they take their leave; he resigns to letting Iris hold Junior and tries not to let his new found instincts take over so he snatches the baby from her. They talk about random things, how the city is doing, how the rest of the world is fairing and how Law and Order are slowly making their way back into the system. They talk about hunting, how it's going for Iris and if Prompto has any plans for how he's going to continue doing it with a kid now.

 

He'll figure it out, later.

 

They come up to the food center—a soup kitchen of sorts—so Prompto can pick up the formula the last scavengers managed to find. He holds the door open for Iris and takes a quick look around them out of habit, checking for anything odd or out of place as he follows her inside the building. There are dozens of people and families here inside the almost dilapidated warehouse, sitting around long metal tables or standing anywhere they can find room. The workers look exhausted, running on fumes and sheer willpower, not enough helping hands to make things any smoother if it was possible.

 

Prompto frowns at the sight of so many people waiting in line for just a few cans of food for their families but it's getting increasingly harder to find safe food for people to eat since growing crops sounds like a dream at the moment. There were ideas but nothing that could be implemented so soon, it would take years for it to be fully figured out and He should be back by then anyhow.

 

Prompto made his way behind the assembly line, up the stairs that held the old supervision loft of the warehouse where a few employees were taking breaks at, the box out in there for him. He made small talk about the baby with the volunteers as he grabbed the box of formula and bid them goodbye, watching as Iris was on the bottom floor with Junior. He nearly tripped coming down the steps and gasped loudly, biting his tongue to not let out a loud curse into the echoing warehouse full of families. Iris snickered and half back laughter and he sent her a half-hearted glare that came out more like a pout.

 

On his way over to her from the bottom of the stairs, his wandering eyes around the warehouse catch a slightly familiar face, her black hair pulled up into a loose bun. Ophelia picked up a few cans of food from one of the workers, thanking them quickly. She locked eyes with Prompto and have a large, sharp grin with a friendly wave, before wiggling her fingers over at Iris who was bouncing slightly with Junior. Prompto nodded at her in recognition, brows furrowing as he watched her walk away and he came to Iris' side. She was still giggling over his near fall.

 

"Ha-ha, keep laughing, maybe you want to carry the box while I carry Junior?" he challenged her as a joke, but in just a few awkward shuffling and passing, Prompto was cradling his baby and Iris was holding the box like it weighed nothing to her.

 

Prompto chuckled and mentally reminded himself to not slack on his exercise. He said "Well played, man,"

 

Iris grinned brightly and they both moved to walk out when a voice stopped them, the clicking of dress shoes and a cane close to them.

 

"Prompto, is that you?"

 

"Oh, Iggy!" he grinned and shifted Junior in his arms.

 

Ignis smiled softly and held his walking cane in both hands, a few folders tucked underneath his right arm.

 

"Good to hear from you after these few days we've had apart. The restoration of Lestallum has us all up in arms as of late."

 

"Yeah, the further we get the more complicated it's gonna be, huh?"

 

He nodded, "Indeed, and, I could have sworn I heard Iris with you as well…?"

 

"Here, Ignis!" she giggled and set the box down by her feet, no use in holding it if they were going to talk.

 

He nodded in her direction and smiled, a bit proudly. Prompto let out a laugh, "You're getting good at this, Iggy! Soon you'll be able to pick us out in the middle of a big crowd."

 

"Well, it's not too difficult to differentiate your boisterous noise from that of common folk, Prompto."

 

"Hey!" he shouted.

 

Iris giggled, "Point being! What you doing here, Ignis? You got errands to run or food to pick up? Coulda sworn Gladdy just got a new stock…?"

 

He waved her off gently, retrieving the manila folders from his arm and holding them in his hands, "Came to pick up a few reports. Gladiolus will be reading them to me later."

 

Prompto made a move to speak, wanting to tease them on how doting Gladio has been over Ignis lately when Junior fusses in his arms, whining and squirming.

 

Ignis tilts his head; thin brows furrowed just slightly, "You have the child with you?"

 

"Uh, yeah," Prom mumbles as he bounces very gently, knowing Junior is getting upset because he's hungry. Or perhaps he's sleepy, or a combo of the two.

 

"I had heard in a check-up that the boy had been adopted…" Ignis stuffed the folders under his arm once more and crossed them over his chest as best he could. With a brow raised and a questioning tone, Prompto sighed as he knew he had been caught.

 

He shifted a bit uncomfortably on his feet, sparing a glance to the formula sitting in the cardboard box that his baby is slowly getting very fussy over.

 

"Yeah, he was. It was me, I adopted Junior."

 

Ignis pulled back a bit, his pose less stiff and more surprised, "You know nothing of caring for a child, please tell me this is a joke?" he nearly scoffed.

 

"It's not a joke, Ignis. Junior had nobody else and they were going to just hand him off to some stranger to raise him…!"

 

"And you're not a stranger to this boy?"

 

Prompto bit his lip already feeling frustrated. Ignis was right, of course, he always was, but Prompto was going to stand his ground despite the anxiety churning painfully in his stomach.

 

"Look, anything you're gonna say to put me down or tell me I'm not qualified to do this, believe me when I tell you I've already said them to myself. Times a thousand—" he took a shuddering breath "please trust me in this, Ignis. I want this to happen; I want to be there for him. I was the one who found and rescued him, I can't just shove him off onto anyone else, you know I'm not like that."

 

Ignis stayed quiet, contemplating, that usual thinking expression etched on his face. Typically that meant you were in for one hell of a lesson but he said nothing, just waited, so Prompto continued to speak.

 

"No one else wanted him, man…they were gonna give him to one of those ladies from the daycare and you _know_ we've had problems with how their treating the kids since there's so many. He's just a little baby…he's my baby. You can't take him from me."

 

Prompto was near tears by the end of his rant, shoulders shaking with emotion and voice strong though laced with desperation. Iris set a firm hand on his shoulder and squeezed it in silent support, he mentally thanked her.

 

Ignis reached up to his face with his free hand not holding his cane and slowly slipped the black glasses off. He held then in front of his chest and his clouded eyes flickered about in Prompto's general direction. The blond tried not to state at the scars or the way his eyes were unfocused, semi-used to it by now.

 

"I'm not going to take him away from you, Prompto. It's too late to do such a thing, legally it would be a nightmare right now and besides…I know the tone of a protective, defensive father when I hear one."

 

Prompto almost deflated in relief, moving forward to speak when Ignis raise his glasses in a form of warning, cutting him off,

 

"But…this does not mean I approve of such an irrational decision—" Ignis set his jaw and narrowed his eyes, "I hope you truly have a grasp on the overwhelming weight that comes with being a parent. I hope, no, _pray_ you understand just how much more difficult it's going to be to raise this precious boy in such a world as this, so terrible, unforgiving and as deadly as the one we find ourselves in today." He puts his glasses back on and shifts his arm's hold on the folders.

 

"You've made your choice, Prompto, do not complain, whine or cry if it backfires on you."

 

Prompto swallowed thickly, the lump of emotion still stuck in his throat. He's never been on the receiving end of one of Ignis' infamous lectures, always hearing about the intensity from Him much later on. It’s painful and insulting, he feels like he's a kid getting reprimanded on not doing his homework and he supposes in some way, it's kind of just like that.

 

He starts to nod, but takes a deep breath and mutters, "Yea- Yes…I understand."

 

Iris' eyes flicker back and forth between them two, worried and just a bit awkward, the air thick with tension. Prompto has tunnel vision, staring at the almost disappointed look on Ignis' face. Standing there, he was not a twenty-one year old man, just a frightened teenager.

 

"Well, "father", would you please care to your crying child?"

 

Slowly, the sounds of the rest of the world came back and Prompto realized that Junior was crying up a storm in his arms, flailing about angrily. He blinked, feeling dumbfounded, before the emotions caught up with him.

 

"O-oh, shit! Ah, shh, it's okay!" he comforted the baby as best as he could, holding him close.

 

He ignored Ignis from then on, moving past him quickly to rush out the doors, trying to take the crying child away from all of the tired and frustrated people. Iris gives a curt goodbye to Ignis as she struggled slightly to pick the box up and jog after Prompto, the man already fast walking down the street in distress.

 

If that was Ignis' reaction, if he made Prompto clam up and feel this terrible…Iris almost doesn't want Gladio to find out about Junior at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignis is full of love and care for Prompto i swear he is, he's very concerned and just wants to make sure Prom did the right thing, yeah?
> 
> Also I'm sorry if my characterization gets kinda wonky or screwy, I'm not too good at keeping things In Character but I'm trying my best!


	6. Chapter 6

Kissing Junior's forehead one last time, Prompto slips the empty bottle out from the sleeping baby's mouth. He smiles and plays with Junior's hair just a bit as the child slumbers peacefully on his nest of pillows, Prompto still unable to properly make him a crib. Junior seems to like being next to him while they sleep anyhow.

 

He steps away from the bed and out of the bedroom, keeping the lights on and the door wide open. He makes his way into the kitchen, maneuvering around the small space in the house he has left since most of Junior's baby things are taking up space in boxes. They actually didn't find much for him at his current stage at all besides a few clothes and formula, most of the things Prompto has lying around are for toddlers or older. He wasn't going to pass up on them while he had the opportunity to claim them, though. A lot of children's things were going to the daycare—it's actually an orphanage but people prefer to call it something else—because they needed it just a bit more than Prompto did.

 

But he's a little selfish and his son deserves things. He slides out a can of, well, something, and fishes for a can opener in the drawers. He stopped caring about what it was he was eating specifically a few months ago. Whether it is plain beans, chili or cold ravioli, food was whatever you could get nowadays. He opened the can—some kind of noodle-in-tomato-sauce thing—and poured it into a pot, setting it on the stove to heat up.

 

He glances into his bedroom, watching junior lay there calmly for a few seconds before letting himself face plant into the couch. Junior takes a lot of energy out of him for something so delicate and small but he honestly loves the attention and all the giggles and smiles. That boy is truly a blessing.

 

He lifts his head, staring at the night stand next to the couch—a gift from one of the nurses—and he contemplated his next move. He knows that what he put in the drawer still has battery, that's not the issue. What is the problem is the material that exists on that device and if he really wants to go down _that_ road right now; put himself through that kind of bitter pain again, unable to stop himself from going through the collection every other month or so.

 

He reaches out for the drawer, sliding it open and watches the slightly expensive camera jostle about. It was one that He … that Noctis had bought him a week before they left for their trip. Even his name brings a wave of emotional toil washing over Prompto's belly. He slowly picks it up, shifting and turning onto his back with his head propped up on the arm of the couch. He fixes his shirt that got tussled during the position change and absent mindedly rubs at his exposed barcode, waiting for the device to turn on.

 

He doesn't use it anymore; he just keeps it charged for a reason he can't quite place. He watches the LED screen come to life and he shifts down on the controls to view the camera's Gallery. There are well over three-hundred photos; he could never bring himself to delete them even if they came out bad or awkward. He started flickering through them despite the dread settling deep inside; he needed to see what once was, that a good time did happen, that at some point they were all together and smiling brightly under the summer sun.

 

There are so many photos of Noctis, ridiculously so, he's almost still embarrassed by it but now he's mostly thankful. Thankful that there are so many clear records of the man he loves, grinning like a dork or pouting like the spoiled Prince he was. There were pictures of his calm, thoughtful faces and candid ones of him simply dozing off in the Regalia. All of these were lovely and Prompto cherished them dearly, scrubbing at his eyes to try and trick himself into not shedding a tear. Noctis was gone but he wasn't dead and Prompto needs to stop acting like he is. He chuckles at the idea of what Noct would say to him now having a son.

 

He flicks through, smiling sadly at every photo, especially the ones of all four of them together; there’s Ignis; without his walking cane, scars or cloudy eyes. Gladio who is less tense and serious, slurping noodles and throwing his head back in laughter. Noctis was there next to them, sleepy, smiling and full of sass.

 

Himself; bright, lively, shining even, _happy._

 

He really misses it.

 

Ignis has stopped truly speaking to him since he found out about Junior; seems he's very disappointed in Prompto. He can't blame him, He won't, and he took what Ignis had said to heart. As for Gladio, well, he'll see him again when he gets ready to go on more hunts and scavenging runs. That's coming up in a few days, actually, and he clutches his camera close. He has a feeling telling Gladio will involve lots of yelling. What he would give to go back to those days; the better days, the sunny, warm filled afternoons.

 

There's a shuffle of fabric, a loud, high pitched whine and more shuffling. Prompto vaults from the couch, dropping his camera haphazardly behind him as he jogs over to the bedroom and to his child, scooping him in his arms as the baby starts fussing and crying, shushing and rocking Junior in his arms.

 

He can hope, wish and dream all he wants about being in the past, but staring down at his son— eyes wide and squirming on his chest after he calmed down—brings him such a great warmth and love in his chest that just maybe, he understands that the past is exactly where it's supposed to lie.

 

Behind him.

 

* * *

 

Slamming the dumpster shut, Prompto almost gags at the smell emanating from inside. Pinching his nose and skittering across the street he sighs and makes his way inside his home quickly. He thought changing Junior's diapers smelled horrible but whatever fresh hell was rotting away in the metal tin outside was something out of his nightmares.

 

He kicks an empty box out of his way and mumbles a self-reminder to re-purpose it or toss it later. He picks up the Niff machinery a hunter dropped off for him and hauls it into his makeshift workshop, eager to tinker with it and see if he can get the weapon started again someday. Niflheim technology was highly sought after these days; incredibly advanced when working and chalk full of useful material when broken, he could sit on many of these pieces until money came back in circulation. It seemed like it was going to happen sometime in the next few years.

 

He was slowly slipping out on attending a lot of the council meetings; he simply stopped caring to intimately follow the systematic on goings of recreating a civilization from scratch. He was brought in as an important figure at first, being a part of the Kingsglaive and Crownsguard gives him some odd form of prestige among others even though Insomnia was long gone. Now though, he just gives reports and helps the physical labor of it all. Creating rules, laws, economic development and so on so forth is not where he shines. That's why Ignis is one of the highest members. That’s his place in this new world.

 

Prompto; his place is being a dad and helping others laugh, feel just a bit better and more normal about what's happening. That's always been his role. He turns the light off to his office and closes the door behind him, humming to the silence of his home, tracing a hand over the basket his son was laying in on the couch. He smiles and plays with Junior's hands, chuckling when the baby latches onto his finger. He gives it a few wiggles and pulls away when the boy tried sticking it into his mouth.

 

"That mean you're hungry, baby?" he smiles and gently rocks the basket, humming softly, "you just had a bottle, though, so you'll have to wait! Don't wanna become tubby like your daddy used to be."

 

He laughed fondly at the memory of his young overweight child self, teetering around all awkward and shy. He doesn't wish such a childhood for his son at all but it doesn't mean he would love him any less if that's how he turned out to be. Prompto pulled Junior into his arms, continuing his humming as he laid down on the couch. The clock on the wall read 12:30 AM and he stifled a yawn. He made it a rule that despite there being no sunshine he would get Junior used to the sleeping schedule one would have had before the sun left the earth. When it comes back, that would be vital for his internal clock to already have had learned.

 

He laid Junior down on his chest, rubbing his baby's back slowly as he hummed louder for him. Junior seemed to have taken to his singing if one could glean anything from the way the baby clung closer any time he hummed or sung a string from an old pop song. So far, he managed to find a lullaby for his boy, the words making the child sleep almost instantly and Prompto finds it the cutest thing in the world. Plus, it's very useful, such as now. Kissing the crown of his head, Prompto got as comfortable as could be on his couch and parted his lips to sing softly.

 

* * *

 

 

"Big day, today is a big day, son."

 

Prompto grins at the word usage, feeling giddy inside any time he gets to say it. Junior just stares blankly at him from his spot bundled up on the bed. Prompto leans down closer to him.

 

"Today, your daddy is gonna tell Gladio about your adoption. He may get into a fist fight—which means he'll just get his butt kicked, but that's okay, because daddy loves you."

 

Junior let out a spit bubble in response. Prompto nodded eagerly.

 

"Let's go!"

 

He scooped Junior up and wrapped him in another blanket due to the weather. It's slowly getting very cold outside depending on the hour and while he can still handle it in his vests and tank-tops he's not risking any chance with Junior; the boy is sickly enough as is. The two Argentum's make their way out the door, Prompto making baby talk and ruffling his son's curly hair.

 

Recently, a lot of Prompto's life has been one facing-maturity event after another and he honestly can't wait until it's all over and he can spend his days at home with his son dealing with baby shenanigans. Like some form of sitcom perhaps. He winces when Junior grabs a thick lock of his hair and pulls, yanking it out of his tiny hands. He moves to open the door to the recently appointed Lestallum's Restoration Committee— or the LRC offices, when a woman comes stepping out and holds it open for him.

 

He thanks her quickly and shuffles inside the building, nervous but decidedly less so than he normally would have been. He's been through a lot, since He went away, since the sun went away, since he found Junior. He can handle this. He mumbles an 'ouch' and pulls his hair away from Junior again.

 

He walks past the front desk and into one of the makeshift meeting rooms where he knows Gladio and Ignis are waiting to start one in just twenty minutes or so. He takes a deep breath and steps through the threshold into the room, glancing at the large board on the concrete wall that held a very large map of Lucis, many things crossed out, circled and written on in multiple organized colors referring to multiple different things. He recognizes most of it.

 

Gladiolus was currently sitting on the edge of the large plastic table in the middle of the room, reading a few papers to Ignis who was sipping from a coffee mug while he sat in one of the flimsy metal chairs. Prompto grabbed one with his free hand and pulled it close to them, the scraping against the stone floor alerting the other two men to his presence. He sat down as casually as he could with his baby in his arms as if nothing was wrong.

 

"Hey guys…how goes the restoration efforts?"

 

Gladio stares him down, shifting his weight on the table and giving a soft sniff. He places his right hand in his knee and holds the papers, now facing down, in his left and spares a glance to Ignis.

 

"It's goin’” he looks back at Prom, "why'd you bring the kid here? Why do you have him anyway?"

 

Prompto chances a look at Ignis—he man just taking a slow drink from his cup—and meets Gladio's gaze.

 

"I can't leave my kid at home by himself," he tried to play it cool, calm, no yelling was needed. In fact it seemed like overreacting if they started to shout.

 

" _Your_ kid?" he scoffed, "you gotta be shitting me. I know I was poking fun but you don't gotta come in here and bother the poor thing to make a rebuttal."

 

Ignis reached behind Gladio to set his cup down on the table, "He's not joking; Junior now legally belongs to him."

 

The look on Gladio's face could very simply be described as incredulous; looking to Ignis as if he grew a third head and said it's a normal occurrence. He scoffs then chuckles, putting his face in his free hand and rubbing at his eyes. Prompto pulled his hair away from Junior once more.

 

Gladio sat up straight and looked to the ceiling, he has a smile on his face but Prompto knew it was more from amusement than any form of happiness. He looked at Prom and stood up, gesturing to him with the papers.

 

"Don't you think there are more important things to worry about then some baby you got overly attached to?"

 

"He means more to me than that. I couldn't leave him without any parents—" Gladio cut Prompto off with a laugh and he stepped closer.

 

"There are dozens of orphaned children and teens wandering around right now! Everyone got screwed over and they're all still recovering—it's our job to make sure they _all_ can do that, not single them out individually!" raising his voice, Gladio handed the papers in his hand back to Ignis who took them without a word.

 

Prompto stood tall, squared his shoulders and holding Junior closer, "he's my responsibility Gladio, and I'm going to go through with this whether you like it or not. What do you think I'm doing, you think I'm making a game out of this?"

 

"I think you're playing house to fill the gap in your scrawny ass chest that was created when Noctis left!" Gladio spat at him, jabbing a finger into his left shoulder.

 

Ignis finally spoke up, "Gladio…!" and he made a move to stand when Gladio thrust out a hand to stop him, never taking his heated glare from Prompto.

 

Prompto clenched his jaw and tried not to let it show how deep the claim Gladio had made truly cut him, his throat burning with emotion and eyes just a bit wide. He huffed through his nose and stepped back from Gladolus' large figure when the man kept coming closer. He moved Junior into a more upright position and pulled him even closer; he was crying loudly, face red and squirming, he was roused and upset from all the shouting.

 

Gladio's eyes settled on the child and there was something soft that crossed his features for a second before he scoffed and turns slightly away from Prompto.

 

"Get him out of here, you too. We don't need you today and you can't go hunting and searching with a kid."

 

Prompto rubbed Junior's back and his face contorted in confusion, "I can still do something, I can be useful!"

 

Gladio rolled his eyes and leaned against the table again. Ignis looked a bit uncomfortable but his expression was a trained poker face.

 

"No you can't."

 

Prompto almost let out a growl in response, his blood boiling in anger and embarrassment. Junior wails louder and he has to bite into the inside of his cheek to keep from arguing. There was so much unsaid and he felt like exploding at the stubborn man before him. Instead, he kisses his babies tears away as he leaves the LRC building. Smoothing down Junior's hair and holding his baby close to his heart, he sings the lullaby for his bundle of joy,

 

 

_"You are my Sunshine_

_My only Sunshine_

_You make me happy_

_When skies are gray_

_You'll never know, dear_

_How much I love you_

_Please don't take_

_My Sunshine away"_

 

 

* * *

 

       

Shoving the gun deeper into the Daemon's face than strictly necessary, Prompto pulled the trigger and felt a satisfaction shock through him from letting out his aggression's.

 

"Ugh, blegh! Never gonna get used to that!" he flicked his gun and wiped his face of blood and goo, shuddering deeply at the slimy feeling and smell.

 

He sighs and looks up to the sky at the dull stars, legs aching and heart pumping in the leftover adrenaline. He doesn't have much time to dawdle, picking up his pants and walking back down the trail. He wasn't too far away from the perimeter of Hammerhead this time, walking distance even, using a stray piece of cloth to clean off his hands. A part of him feels bad about sending Quicksilver back into the Armiger as dirty and sticky as it is but he can't clean it just yet. Looking into the far distance he sees the glow of a Red Giant's sword moving further away down the road, watching the trail of light and fire it leaves behind as he steps through the gates.

 

 

 

"You just the cutest lil' bundled up blessin' I ever laid eyes on! Yes you are, yes you are, puddin'!" Cindy gave a gentle kiss to Junior's soft belly, pulling his onesie over his head.

 

"You've seen plenty'a babies, Cindy," Cid mumbled from his seat, cleaning up Quicksilver for Prompto.

 

Said man has just stepped out of the bathroom having practically scrubbed his skin raw to rid it if Daemon blood and stench. He scrubbed his head with a towel and made his way over to Cindy, his baggy sweatpants dragging across the floor with each step.

 

"Thanks for cleaning him up and looking after him for me, Cindy. I really owe you." Prompto gave a tired smile and wiggled his fingers at juniors feet, the baby tucking them up close.

 

Cindy laughed and picked Junior up, a wide grin on her face, "Now I won't have any of that! You come here n'take care of me n'pa's dirty work for us every time you stop by. Besides, lil' Junior here is completely worth it, why I've grown attached already!"

 

Prompto laughed softly as Cindy tickled Junior's belly, leaning against the table. Cid huffed from his spot, catching Prom's attention as he wiped down the gun for a bit of buff and shine.

 

"We can't keep lookin' after him forever you know."

 

Prompto knew that Cid meant well, just like Ignis did; like he hoped Gladio did, although the Amicitia can be very stubborn and thick headed. They were both blunt and realistic and he needed people like them to keep him from going far past the clouds like He used to do. Prompto wrapped his hair towel around his neck and stared off past the open garage door, to the multiple bright flood lights, protective barbed wire fence and hunters starting to gather.

 

"Trust me, I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter compared to the others. There's a time skip and feel good times next chapter!
> 
> Also hello ~~Hollow Bastion~~ Lestallum Restoration Committee 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A time skip + some character stuff + something to let you know I'm not dead and i still have much to do with this story + Promptis!
> 
> I'll be skipping some baby shenanigans simply for plot and will probably compile all of that into a separate fic/collection if anyone wants them. Trying my best to keep this interesting for y'all. Much longer chapter and more story to come next time i swear

Astrals, help him, the baby won't stop moving.

 

"Junior, please, let me clean you!" Prompto begged and begged, grabbing the baby by his waist and settling him back down.

 

Junior was close to being two years old now and Prompto couldn't believe how time flew so quickly. He had to reach for the boy as he tried to crawl his way off the table once more. When Junior learned how to crawl he gave his father a hard time; now he knew how to hobble and walk. Prompto could barely get the adorable gremlin to stay still, even while changing his diaper. Practice gets him far enough to struggle slightly and set his now dressed baby on the floor and watch him fly across the living room to his toys, his little waddling ball of happiness.

 

He started to pick up some of the baby's mess around the room, tossing forgotten toys back in his box and wiping up anything he spilled. He grabbed the small stuffed chocobo—an old stained thing he got as a "baby shower" gift—and set it into Junior's crib. He had a proper one now, sturdy and built to last. The only time Gladio ever fully acknowledged Prompto's child. The behemoth of a man seemed to refuse that Prom was now a full-fledged dad, electing to ignore any time Ignis brought up baby talk or Iris gushed over Junior's latest antics.

 

The crib was less of a gift from Gladiolus and more like a forced necessity. He had heard off handedly that Prompto was keeping Junior in an old wicker basket—back when Junior was smaller—and nearly blew up in rage. With his spare time—unbeknownst to all—Gladio had crafted a basic but well fit and working crib. It even rocked slightly, a godsend for the tired father who stays up rocking his baby to sleep. Prompto takes a soft comfort in the fact that if anything Gladio at least cares for his baby's safety, to a degree. The man isn't cold hearted.

 

Along with Junior climbing on things and walking off places where ever he wanted to, came the soft babbles of baby talk. Just shyly coherent, Junior could mumble sounds off about anything that got his attention, which was everything. Prompto catches himself wishing for peace and quiet when his son will call for him softly and then he never wants his baby to stop talking. "Papa" is what the boy had picked up on, hearing Cindy says Pawpaw so often. Junior could say a few choice words but most of his talk was still a garbled mess, utterly adorable to all those around him.

 

When he was done picking up as much as he could, he retreated to his office to keep working on his latest mech piece, trying his hardest to make it work. He’s no Cid but he has always had a love for technology and mechanics, with some determination and focus he could fix most things he managed to pick up. He either sells them or uses the practice when it comes to helping Holly with all of Lestallum’s light works. He managed to pick up a sort of ‘job’ helping work the power plant and keep maintenance on it along with his hunting jobs. He was elbow deep in his work, oil and dirt covering his hands and smudged onto his forehead from wiping the sweat away.

 

“Papa!” Junior’s soft called from the living room.

 

“One second!” Prompto responded, pulling his hands away and rubbing them on his work pants as he stood in his office doorway.

 

“What is it buddy?”

 

“Isshu de numnungh,” Junior garbled, twisted a Rubik’s cube in his tiny hands, he glanced to the front door then back down to his hands.

 

Prompto adjusted his glasses and walked to the door, taking a peek by opening it just slightly to find Ophelia standing there, her arms behind her back and smiling brightly.  He hadn’t heard her knock, but it could have been a little soft for him to hear in his focused state.

 

“Hey, Ophelia…what’s up?” he narrowed his eyes, looking her up and down as secretly as he could.

 

“Not much! I just wanted to know if I could see the little cutie. Oh, and the clinic would like a check up on him to see if everything is going okay,” she grinned and Prompto had to take a good moment to think about it.

 

In the end, he let her inside and picked Junior up in his arms, letting Ophelia speak to him and babble away, all the while Prompto couldn’t stop staring at her. She wasn’t doing anything wrong, not really, and her outfit was fine, completely normal. It was just—this sounds crazy but—he doesn’t recall ever telling her where he lives.

 

“So, does he have a real name by now?”

 

“Huh?” Prompto was called back to reality, looking as she plays with Junior’s hands and he mumbles baby talk.

 

“His name is junior…” Prom mumbled and adjusted his hold on the boy.

 

She scoffed, “he needs an actual name you know. Junior won’t cut it.”

 

He frowns and places his son back down on the floor so he can play with his toys and folded his arms.

 

“Okay, what do you think is a ‘good name’?”

 

She tapped her chin in a playful manner.

 

“You know something like Alexander or Dyri.” Prompto scrunched his nose at the sound of both of the names she suggested.

 

“Nah, I’ll think of one. So, you said the clinic wants me to bring him in?” He quickly diverted the topic, waving his hand lazily.

 

“Yeah, that would be great so we can see how his growth is doing,” She nods to herself and keeps her eyes glued to Junior. Prompto steps just slightly in her view.

 

“Alright, I’ll take him in tomorrow. Thanks for letting me know, but I have to get ready for a trip now.” Prompto walked back to the front door and set his hand on the knob, hoping to get his point across that she should leave.

 

“Alright, I’ll leave you to your stuff then. Bye-bye, baby!” she wiggled her fingers at Junior and cooed before stepping out with a big pretty smile.

 

At the last second, he reached out a hand and tapped her shoulder.

 

"How did you know where i lived?"

 

"The clinic told me, that nice nurse Cilvia let me know! She has it on record," she answered easily, a bit confused.

 

Prompto nodded and closed the door, locking the deadbolt. He brought Junior and his box of toys into to his office in the corner furthest from his desk, leaving the door as wide open as possible and got back to work.

 

* * *

 

 

“Okay I get it; you just wanna pick on me!” He huffed and kicked at the dirt, grumbling under his breath.

 

Gladio laughed softly and Ignis hushed him, a smile on his lips as he steered him back towards the camp. Gladiolus started playing music on his phone as they got to work setting up the last pieces of camp and Prompto turned his back to his boyfriend, arms folded in a pout. Noctis snuck up behind him and poked a few fingers into his sides, right under his ribs to cause Prom to jump and giggle.

 

“You know I love you, man, it’s just a little teasing,” Noct gave a lazy smile and hugged his boyfriend from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder.

 

Prompto was determined to pout and try and make the Prince feel bade, so he said nothing. They stood there like that, standing on the edge of the haven as the other two set up Ignis’ cooking area. Noctis rocked back and forth slightly, burying his nose into Prompto’s hair, his fingertips rubbing on his thin waist.

 

“You smell nice…” Noctis mumbled after a few moments and Prompto couldn’t keep the smile from blooming on his face as he blushed.

 

Prompto turned around in Noct’s hold and wrapped his arms around the other’s shoulders. He gave him a soft kiss then moved to kiss his favorite mole right by Noctis’ mouth. Noct laughed softly and they held one another, swaying to the gentle music playing from Gladio’s phone.  Prompto nuzzled Noctis’ shoulder, the musky smell of old cologne and a hard day’s work in his jacket, watching as the sun set and the runes etched into the stone started to glow.

 

Noctis rubbed his back and danced slowly with him until it was time for dinner. Moments like this, Prompto treasures and remembers every little detail. The warmth Noct radiates pressed up against him, how gentle his fingers are when holding him close. The way Noct smiles like a dope when Prom pulls back to place their foreheads together, leaning in close to nuzzle the bridge of their noses. Noctis moves closer to give caring butterfly kisses and very soft chaste lip smooches to Prompto’s many freckles across his cheeks.

 

Yeah, Prompto treasures these quiet, frozen moments in time. He wouldn’t forget them for as long as he lived.


End file.
